CHAPTER ELEVEN – THOMAS #2
There was a thick silence that hung in the air between us, and as much as I wanted to tell her the truth about why Beth was so tired and struggling so much, I simply couldn’t.
It wasn’t my news to share.
A shuddery breath made the line sound like it was going to break at any moment, and I realised my sister was crying.
I closed my eyes. “Zara.”
“Tom, she—we…” She paused. “Danny,” she settled on after a second. “Again. We’ve tried again.”
I didn’t say anything.
What could I say? That I knew? More than she did?
“Is… Is Beth…” She trailed off.
I knew exactly what she was asking me.
So, I said the only thing I could say, repeating myself for the second time in as many minutes.
“Come home, Zara.”
***
Beth pressed her lips together. “Thank you for not telling her.”
I sighed and offered her a tight smile. “It’s not my news to share,” I said honestly. “Although I do think she’s put two and two together.”
“I agree. I was just so tired last night. I’m seven weeks now, and I guess the lights really took it out of me.” She looked into her mug of tea. “If she’s guessed, she’s guessed. It’s really not your fault.”
“I feel like it is.”
“Thomas, it’s not.” Beth smiled at me. “If I knew she’d call me again, I’d have waited up for her. Thank you for letting me sleep and for putting my car away.”
“It was the least I could do. And don’t worry about getting out—the groundskeepers have already been by and cleared the driveway.”
She nodded her thanks. “Did she… say when she was coming home?”
Guilt twisted my stomach.
Why the fuck was I feeling guilty? I wasn’t the one who’d essentially abandoned my family.
“No,” I said after a moment. “I’m sorry, Beth. I only told her to come home, and we didn’t speak after that.”
“That’s fine. I might just have to tell her on the phone.” She pressed her lips together in a sad smile. “If it brings her home for Danny, it brings her home.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to her, but I wasn’t sure any of them were particularly appropriate.
“I need to get to work.” She put down her mug and stood up, then walked towards the door. “Thanks, Tom.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out except for a soft, “Drive safe.”
After all these years, she’d never called me Tom. Only Thomas.
To be honest, Zara was the only one who used that nickname. Danny chose Uncle Tommy because it sounded like his name in his little mind, and I was more than fine with that. That was something for us and, I hoped, my future niece or nephew.
I leant back in the armchair and closed my eyes. I had to get a move on since I had a meeting with our accountant to go over this month’s payroll, but I was exhausted. Between trying to hash out my feelings around Sylvie and my family drama, there wasn’t much left in me to give.
That was without considering Christmas.
Sylvie.
Shit.
The bloody woman had taken up residence in my head. She’d set up camp, complete with tent and sleeping bag and portable charge bricks. No matter what I did, I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind.
I couldn’t believe she’d karate chopped my fucking arm, and she’d smiled while she’d done it.
I rubbed my hand down my face. Fuck. I hadn’t laughed last night, but I couldn’t help it now. Of all the things she could have done, that was not what I was expecting. Yet somehow it seemed so in character for her—I was shocked, but not surprised.
Sylvie had always been somewhat of a force of nature, and from what I could see, she really hadn’t changed a bit.
I couldn’t believe she hadn’t forgiven me.
I really hadn’t meant to cut her face open with that cricket ball.
My ten-year-old arse had not realised just how hard the cricket ball was as I had no interest in the game as a kid, so I really hadn’t known exactly what I was throwing at her.
I’d thought it was soft, and it wasn’t like I’d aimed for her face.
Alas, I could see how me throwing it at her forehead might have meant she harboured a little resentment against me.
And she really did have a scar there.
Still, it was twenty years ago.
I’d already forgiven her for karate chopping my elbow.
Surely, she was over it.
Then again, my sister hadn’t forgiven me for a fake spider I put in her bed when she was six, so maybe it wasn’t all that weird after all.
“Oh, good, you’re here.” Mum sashayed into the living room and held out a catalogue that was folded back on itself. “Hear me out,” she said, touching the catalogue to her chest. “A drum kit.”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“A what?” I asked, peering at her from my slouched position.
“Sit up.” She whacked me on the head with a catalogue. “Or you’ll end up like Quasimodo, and that’s unbefitting for a young man, much less one of your station in life.”
I sat up straight.
“Thank you,” she said, then handed me the catalogue.
Ah. It was the toy book that was decorated with at least one hundred circles from Danny’s requests.
“A drum kit,” Mum repeated, tapping one of the pictures. “For Danny.”
“I didn’t think it was a gift for the housekeeping staff,” I replied, eyeing the one she’d pointed to.
“I don’t know. Laurelin was in a band once, and she was quite the drummer, if my memory serves me correctly.”
“Mum. Have you thought this purchase through?”
“I think he’d love a drum kit!”
That was the point.
“And in eight months’ time, there’s going to be a newborn baby in the house. Don’t you think that’ll be enough noise?” I raised my eyebrows. “The last thing we need is a six-year-old boy with access to a drum kit.”
She looked at me, and I could almost see my words rattling around her brain.
Sadly, I could also see them going in one ear and zooming right out of the other. Just like when you let the air out of a balloon, and it whizzed around the room before it fell sadly to the ground.
That was my words.
Falling sadly to the rug.
“This is a very big house,” Mum continued. “We could put it somewhere we couldn’t hear it.”
“Mother, you could put a drum kit in Nigeria, and I suspect we’d still hear it.”
“I think he’d love it.”
“If you want him to make noise, a saucepan and wooden spoon are a much cheaper option.”
“Oh, Thomas, you’re so boring.” She took the catalogue back and sat down on the sofa where she opened it and set it on her lap, then produced a pen from inside her blouse.
I didn’t want to know where she’d stashed that.
“I’m not boring, Mum.” I forced myself out of the comfort of the armchair and looked over at her. “I remember when you bought me a drum kit when I was six. You didn’t get the lessons to go with it, so I’d imagine it was as annoying as having rats in the roof.”
She paused. “Did you ever get that sorted?”
“Yes. The exterminator wanted a ridiculous amount of money, so I got the barn cats instead.”
“What barn cats?”
I did a quick double-take. “You haven’t seen the three black cats roaming around from the stables?”
Her mouth formed a little ‘o.’ “Those are our cats? I was loving on them yesterday when I went to see the ponies.”
I tried not to sigh. Really, I did, but it just wasn’t possible to keep it inside.
“When did we get them?”
“Four months ago.”
Mum stilled. “Oh. Very sweet things. Are they really cheaper than an exterminator, though?”
I checked my watch for the time and pointed two fingers at her. “I’ll send you a link on their effectiveness. I have to change and drive into the village to see Joe.”
She blinked up at me. “Oh, all right then. What do you think Beth would like for Christmas?”
“Mum. Have to go. We’ll do this later,” I said, tossing my hand up in a wave goodbye before quickly taking my leave.
If I didn’t, she’d have me writing a list for the whole family.
Then again, if she did, maybe it’d give me some ideas for what to buy everyone, because I was buggered if I knew.